Some
of the characters and situations in this story belong to Alliance
Atlantis, CBS, Anthony Zuicker and other entities, and I do not have
permission to borrow them. Others strongly resemble characters that
sort of belong to ABC, though I seriously doubt anyone cares at this
point. The rest belong to me, and if you want to play with them, you
have to ask me first. No infringement is intended in any way, and
this story is not for profit. Any errors are mine, all mine, no you
can't have any.

Spoilers:
general fifth season through "Unbearable"

Note:
this is a sequel to "Rollercoaster", which really should be
read first. It is an AU
futurefic that includes a number of original characters.

So
we've come to the end. If you've made it this far, I thank you for
putting up with delays, weird original characters, and a plotline
that not only diverted from the show but ran for the horizon waving
its arms and trying for liftoff. You folks are the best!

(bows
to Cincoflex) No way could I have done this without you, my friend!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It
wasn't her usual nightmares, thankfully, but it was an uneasy dream
for all of that, with threads of intense sorrow and defeat running
beneath, along with a thin bright hope. Images, sounds, emotions all
passed with bewildering speed--blood and fear, young woods and old
history; a flashing joke and the flash of eyes, quiet moments and
points of pain. The whistle of a train, the soft boom of a far-off
explosion. Someone is dying…

Sara's
eyes opened. This wasn't the frenetic waking of her nightmares,
either, the violent toss into wakefulness with her heart speeding in
her chest; it was an easy shift, as though she had stepped through a
door and shut it behind her. The dream receded, splintering and
fading even as she tried to remember, but it left a sense of
melancholy in its wake.

The
room was grey with one of Vegas' rare overcast days, light
filtering past the clouds and the thin blinds; it looked almost as
though everything were underwater, but a clearer water than any Sara
knew. She was a little chilly under the sheet, but a big hand rested
warm on her hip, and she could feel a slight pressure between her
shoulderblades--Grissom's head was pressed against her spine. He
always seemed to need to touch her when he slept.

The
melancholy faded in its turn, falling to conquering contentment, and
Sara debated reaching down for the comforter or rolling over into
Grissom's arms. But there was a reason they were seeing in the
morning together, and the day would be full. Sara turned, and as
Grissom shifted in response to her movement, she grinned and extended
a finger to tickle his nose.

His
face didn't wrinkle up; his eyelids fluttered, and then opened, and
he regarded her with a clear if sleepy gaze, reaching up a hand to
catch the one that was taunting him.

"Wake
up, sleepyhead," Sara teased. "We've got a lot to do today."

A
slow smile spread over his face, and with a speed she did not expect
in someone newly wakened, he pounced. Sara found herself underneath
a smirking Grissom. "Morning," he said, amused, and kissed her.

She
let him pin her wrists to the mattress and kissed him back happily,
reflecting that his phobia about morning breath…his, not
hers…seemed to be just about cured.

x

Afterwards,
she didn't bother with her robe, just rising nude to poke through
her dresser looking for underwear. Grissom propped his head on his
arm, watching her, though Sara pretended not to notice as she fished
out a bra. But when she turned back to him, the tenderness in his
face stole her breath completely.

"Your
kiss is made with orange marmalade/apple blossoms, toast and tea/I
cannot think of any place I'd rather/I'd rather be…" he
quoted softly.

Her
cheeks heated slightly at the compliment, and she couldn't help the
smile that curved her lips as she quoted back. "My sleepy friend,
I always want to spend/Sunday morning here with you/I cannot think of
anything I'd rather/ I'd rather do..."

Grissom's
surprise made her smile wider. "A child of the seventies--I should
have known." He shook his head, grinning.

Sara
shrugged, and walked back over to ruffle his hair. "I think I was
ten when I figured out how dirty his lyrics really are." She
dodged his lazy grab for her and went to get dressed, savoring the
sweetness of his compliment.

"No
tea?" he called after her as she went into the bathroom, and she
laughed.

"It's
Saturday. C'mon, Gil, we have to be in Los Angeles by two or Ed'll
send out the Highway Patrol to find us."

Sara
found herself oddly aglow with anticipation, and kept laughing
silently at her own feelings. I never thought I'd be so excited
about this. Not since I was about six, anyway. But she didn't
mind. It had been a little over a year since Grissom had dropped
back into her life, and everything had changed--for the better.

Grissom
was feeling pretty anticipatory himself, she noted, watching his soft
absent smile show up again and again as he made them breakfast. "Do
you really think it'll take us six hours to get there?" he asked,
sliding eggs onto a plate.

Sara
sliced up a pear. "Not really, but just to be on the safe side.
Besides, the sooner we show up, the more time we'll have to veto."

Grissom
snickered. "You gave Ed control of this thing, Sara--do you really
doubt him?"

She
grinned. "Nah. But I know my brother. He has to have something
up his sleeve."

After
breakfast, which was quick but delicious, she washed the dishes while
Grissom put their bags in the trunk of her car; when he came back in,
she made him apply sunscreen. "If we're putting the top down,
Gil, you're wearing it."

He
grumbled, but complied, and Sara slathered the stuff on herself.
Grissom took the opportunity to anoint the back of her neck, sneaking
in a kiss next to her ponytail, and Sara poked him gently and twisted
out of his grip. "Ready?"

"More
than," he replied, eyes warm as he regarded her, and Sara resisted
the urge to kiss him properly, reaching for her keys instead.

"Then
let's go."

Since
it wasn't raining yet, Sara lowered the convertible's roof once
they cleared the city, and they headed west, moving out from under
the clouds about an hour into their trip. "Do you want to drive?"
she asked when they hit the Mojave National Preserve, but Grissom
shook his head.

"Maybe
later," he said, tilting his seat back and letting his hand rest
against the outside of her thigh. "I'm enjoying this."

Sara
laughed, and accelerated.

x

Kimmy
and Joseph both came tearing across the lawn when Sara parked in
front of Ed's house, and after a set of tempestuous hugs Sara was
highly amused to see Grissom casually reach down and pick up Joey,
bundling him over one shoulder in a rare demonstration of strength
and playfulness. Joey shrieked with glee as Grissom took one of the
cases in his other hand and marched into the house.

Kimmy
rolled her eyes. "He's such a baby sometimes," she said
to Sara, who took out the other suitcase and used the slam of the
trunk to cover her snicker.

"Brothers
are like that. You all ready for tomorrow?"

Her
niece nodded enthusiastically, bouncing alongside Sara as they headed
for the house. "Yeah, and Grace said she would braid my hair if
you show her how."

"Sounds
good. Thanks, kiddo," as Kimmy held the front door open for her.
"Hiya, Eddie."

Ed,
arms full of folded towels, passed by with a quick friendly elbow
against Sara's shoulder, presumably in lieu of a hug. "Glad
you're here! There's a ton to do."

Sara
rolled her eyes, snickering. "Nice to see you too."

The
house was chaos, but happy chaos. Ed, true to his word, had tamed
the back yard, and Kimmy was sent to set up the patio chairs that
Sara and Grissom had rented in strategic places before covering them
with old sheets to protect them from passing birds. The house itself
was already sparkling clean, thanks to Gracie's skills, and she
dove out of the den to give Sara a warm hug and to make Grissom
pinken by kissing his cheek. "I'm finishing up Kimmy's dress,"
she explained, a bit breathless. "I'd swear she's growing in
between fittings."

They
retreated to the guest room to hang up their clothes, and Sara took
the opportunity to give Grissom a warm kiss. He returned it readily,
but looked inquiring as she let him go. "What was that for?"

She
shrugged. "No reason, I just felt like it."

Grissom
cocked his head. "Is there any way I can encourage this mood?"
he said, deadpan, and Sara chuckled and led him from the room.

As
they emerged, Ed swooped down on them and assigned Sara to help
Joseph set up plates, napkins, and tableware for the next day, while
Grissom went to pick up the alcohol he'd ordered for the reception.

Sara
wasn't surprised when everything was finished by sunset. Ed was a
good leader when he exerted himself, and Gracie was nothing if not
efficient. They gathered in the living room, the kids looking a
little tired with low blood sugar, and Ed rubbed his hands and looked
around. "I declare us done. And no way am I messing up the
kitchen. Let's go out to eat."

"Waffle
World!" Joseph voted at once, but Ed shook his head.

"Nope.
We're going to the Old Spaghetti Factory." Kimmy's mouth
opened. "And, if you don't argue about it, you can get one of
those fancy drinks in the take-home glasses."

Sara
suppressed a grin as Kimmy obviously thought better of whatever
objection she'd been about to make. Sneaky man.

They
all fit into the minivan for the drive to the restaurant. The kids
perked up once the drinks arrived, with the promised keepsake
glasses, and they all took their time over the meal. Sara recognized
at least one strategy inherent in Ed's leisure; if Joey was tired
enough when they got home, he would go right to bed, and sleep long
enough to be ready for the long day tomorrow.

In
the meantime, he was busily drawing on his placemat with the provided
crayons, and Sara couldn't help remembering Pennsylvania the year
before, and the tiny bugs Grissom had drawn on the tablecloth as he
and Sara had politely avoided all the things they'd really wanted
to talk about.

Grissom's
hand slid over hers under the table, gripping gently, and a glance at
him made her suspect he was remembering that time too. So much
has changed.

For
the better.

x

The
four of them sat up late that night after the children had gone to
bed, just talking, and Sara savored the weight of Grissom's arm
across her shoulders as they occupied the couch in the discussions of
everything from politics to the possibility of life on other planets.
She'd asked Grissom weeks before if his friends were planning on a
bachelor party, and he'd given her an amused look. They might
be, he'd said, but I'm not going. I want to spend the
evening before our wedding with you, not with a bunch of guys
determined to get me drunk.

Sara
had to admit, that made a certain amount of sense. Gracie had
offered what she referred to as a "hen party," but Sara had
refused with thanks. She'd never been much of a party person, and
while going out for drinks with female friends did appeal to a
certain extent, she didn't want to do it the night before a big
event.

So
they sat in Ed's living room, Gracie curled up in the big armchair
and Ed sitting splay-legged on the floor at her feet, running his
hands through his hair until it stood up like a mad scientist's as
they debated the colonization of the Moon and the movies of Buster
Keaton. Sara felt full to the brim of some warm, calm, happy
feeling, and she finally pinned it down as contentment. Her
restless, questing soul was at peace.

Wow.

She
leaned her head on Grissom's shoulder, just because she could, and
sighed, letting herself rest. I don't know if it gets any
better than this. But…

...we
can find out.

xxxx

Grissom
woke feeling amazingly lighthearted with anticipation. When he
rubbed his eyes clear and looked over at Sara, she was curled on her
side watching him, a tiny smile playing at the corners of her mouth,
and he raised his brows at her. "Ready to get married?" he asked
softly.

She
touched his lips gently, rubbing her thumb over his beard. "What
would you do if I said no?" she asked teasingly.

Grissom
shrugged away the slight pang the thought gave him. "Give you more
time," he answered with honesty. "I'd make you explain
it to Kimmy, though."

She
giggled, a sound he didn't hear often from her, and raised her arms
over her head for a stretch. "Good thing for all concerned that I
am," she said. "Are you?"

Her
provocative pout made the question another tease, but Grissom saw the
flicker of faint uncertainty in her eyes, and propped his head on one
hand.

"I
was ready weeks ago. You were the one who wanted to drag friends and
relatives into this," he returned with a grin, and Sara let her
arms go limp on the pillow and laughed in earnest.

"We'd
better not disappoint them, then. C'mon, let's get the day
started." She rolled out of bed and onto her feet in one fluid
motion, which made Grissom vaguely envious. He got up in slower
stages, for once not caring in the least about slightly creaky
joints. None of it mattered today.

Sara
had beat him to the shower, so Grissom brushed his teeth while
waiting for his turn, and got to kiss her as she emerged, not caring
about the droplets that dampened his T-shirt. By the time he was
clean and dry, Sara was gone; he dressed listening to Kimmy's
excited voice as she chattered, apparently on the phone, in the
hallway.

There
was only coffee in the kitchen today; in a gender-split decided
mostly to appease the traditionalists, as Sara put it, Grissom and Ed
were due to leave soon to meet Brass, Doc Robbins, and Nick for
breakfast. Sara, Gracie, and the kids--Joseph had declared suddenly
that he wanted to stay with Aunt Sara--would pick up Rosalie and
Susan for their own breakfast. Grissom hadn't been surprised when
Jack had elected to stay home until it was time for the ceremony; his
uncle wasn't gregarious.

Ed
was leaning on the kitchen island inhaling coffee steam when Grissom
came in; the man was dressed, and more-or-less upright, but he looked
more asleep than awake. Grissom poured himself some coffee and
leaned on the other side. "Are you okay?" he asked mildly.

"Hate
mornings," Ed mumbled into his mug. "Should be illegal."

"Ah."
Grissom nodded, and sipped from his own cup. Sara had said that her
brother wasn't a morning person, but Grissom hadn't seen him
quite like that before.

Sara
herself strode in at that moment, giving Grissom a conspiratorial
grin and stealing a sip of his coffee. "We're almost ready to
go," she said. "Ed, I need the keys--we're trading cars,
remember?"

"Mmgh,"
was the only answer she got. Sara rolled her eyes, and as Grissom
watched in fascination, she got an ice cube from the fridge dispenser
and with a practiced move slipped it down the back of Ed's shirt.
Grissom watched the resultant jump and snarl, and made a mental note
about the ice trick as Sara calmly repeated her demand.

Keys
safely in hand, she came around the island for one more kiss, and
Grissom let his hand find her waist as he made it a long one,
delighting in the sweetness of her, the fact that today was their
wedding day.

He
felt her smile as their lips parted. "See you in a few hours,"
she whispered, and let her hand trail down to his as she stepped
backwards.

"I'll
be waiting," Grissom promised, and Sara kept hold of his hand as
though she didn't want to let go.

But
Joey came bouncing into the kitchen and took her free one, pulling
her towards the door. "C'mon, Aunt Sara, let's go! I'm
hungry!"

Even
Ed roused enough to laugh, and both men returned Sara's dramatic
wave as she let her nephew haul her out of the room.

After
a few minutes of silence and coffee, Ed looked over at Grissom, his
sleepiness mostly dispelled by a mischievous gleam. "So can I
drive the Mercedes?"

Grissom
cocked his head, swallowed his last mouthful, and smirked. "Nope."

Half
an hour later, listening to Ed talking microbiology with Robbins as
they waited for their table at the restaurant, Grissom reflected on
the fact that Ed possessed a gift that Sara didn't have--simple,
open friendliness. He was as eager as a puppy--a brilliant puppy,
Grissom had to admit--to get to know people, in contrast to Sara's
reserve.

"Is
he always like that?" Brass commented in a low voice, nodding
towards Ed, and Grissom turned up a hand.

"She
has tickets to some kind of concert today, which trumps a wedding,
according to Catherine."

At
that moment, the hostess called them over, and they went to sit down.
As soon as they were settled and introduced, Brass looked over at
Grissom with a wicked expression.

"So,
Gil," the captain drawled. "Looks like you finally pulled your
head completely out of your ass."

Nick
snickered, and Robbins rolled his eyes. Ed was watching in
fascination, Grissom noticed, and took a sip of his ice water.
"You're right," he said calmly. "A long overdue rectal
craniotomy, at that."

Ed
chuckled at that. "A fate worse than death," he intoned, which
brought more laughter.

"So
where are the ladies this morning?" Nick asked after they placed
their orders. "Off getting manicures and makeovers and things?"

"I
believe so," Grissom agreed. "At least, the 'things' part."
Gracie and Kimmy had managed to talk Sara into getting her hair
trimmed, with possible other primping procedures; Grissom suspected
that his mother had been used as a bargaining chip at some point,
which didn't bother him at all. She would love to spend a morning
with them, and he knew that they wouldn't let her get too tired.
"I didn't ask for details."

"Some
feminine mysteries are best left unplumbed," Robbins added, which
prompted a round of somewhat dirty puns. Grissom looked around the
table at his friends, and was suddenly conscious of how glad he was
that they were there to celebrate with him.

x

The
men lingered over brunch; Grissom noted with amusement that while
some stories were told about weddings, most of the conversation
actually revolved around the bride. Ed was curious to know what she
had been like on the job, and traded stories of their childhood in
return. But eventually it was time to leave.

"See
you there, Griss," Nick said, waving as they parted in the
restaurant's parking lot, and Ed sighed.

"Home
to the monkey suits, I guess. The women have your mom's place as a
staging area, right?"

"That's
correct," Grissom answered, unlocking the Mercedes so they could
climb in.

Ed
collapsed into the passenger seat like a string-cut marionette.
"Your friends are cool," he said casually. "How many people
are coming to this thing again?"

Grissom
did some quick math in his head. As it turned out, none of the techs
were coming, but that still left quite a few people from the lab.
"Eighteen, I think." He put on his seatbelt. "We should have
plenty of everything."

"If
not, we can just send out for pizza," Ed said drolly, and Grissom
chuckled and backed the car out.

The
two men took their time getting ready, not that they had too much to
do; but Grissom chose to polish his shoes and brush his teeth again,
and make sure that his suit was speckless. Their wedding might be
informal, but that was no reason to be careless. After all, this
really is one of the most important days of my life.

As
he checked himself in the guest room's mirror, Grissom tried to
imagine Sara by his side, but it was more difficult than usual; she
had stuck to one tradition and not let him see the dress she'd
bought. Never mind. You'll find out shortly.

He
double-checked his pocket for the ring, feeling...not nervous,
exactly, but the same sort of focused concentration that he
experienced before going on the witness stand for an important case.
Except that this feeling had an edge of joy rather than grimness.

"Ready
to go?" Ed called from the living room, and Grissom gave his
reflection a firm nod. Yes.

I'm
ready.

x

The
guests were already seated in the garden when Grissom and Ed arrived.
The bride and flower girl were nowhere to be seen, of course, and
Gracie was undoubtedly with them, but everyone else seemed to be in
place but Brass and Rosalie--his relations, people from the lab, all
dressed up and chatting quietly in the sunshine. There was an aisle
in between the rows of chairs, but it didn't look as though anyone
had chosen a side, per se.

Grissom
hung back at one of the doors leading to the garden. "I'll wait
here for the minister," he told Ed. "You go ahead."

Ed
tossed him a casual salute and loped off to take a seat next to his
son. Grissom watched the guests for a moment, enjoying the sight of
them, before a hand on his arm made him turn.

"I'm
so proud of you," Rosalie signed, before taking his face in her
hands and pulling him down to kiss his cheek. Grissom gave her a
gentle hug, happy that she was there to see him get married.

Grissom
took a closer look at her. She looked good, not stressed or tired.
"How are you feeling?"

"I'm
fine," she answered, with only a hint of impatience. "Grace had
me lie down for half an hour after we got back, and it worked
wonders. Don't worry, dear."

He
couldn't help a laugh. "I won't, then. Shall I walk you to
your seat?"

"Oh,
that's not necessary." She gave his arm a final pat. "I have
an escort already."

Turning,
she waved, and Brass stepped out from a doorway, coming up to offer
her his arm. "I'll take good care of her, Gil," he said with a
wink, and Grissom nodded in thanks, stepping aside so they could go
out.

As
Brass was settling her, the minister came from the other direction,
smiling. After some discussion, Sara and Grissom had chosen the
clergyman attached to Verde Ridge, who was Episcopalian by training
but who handled duties for other denominations as well, depending on
the needs of the residents. "I've just spoken to the ladies,"
he said as he reached Grissom. "Apparently we can get started any
time."

Grissom
heard an echo of Sara in his words, and felt one corner of his mouth
go up in a smile. "By all means."

They
stepped out into the sunlight, Grissom following the minister up the
aisle. He was rather startled when the guests started applauding,
but Greg's sharp whistle and "Way to go!" broke everyone into
laughter and allowed him to send the younger man a pseudo-admonishing
look. Unrepentant, Greg was dragged down into his seat by Abdul,
whom Grissom noticed was laughing as well.

Grissom
took his place next to the minister, and they both turned to face the
seats. Grissom felt his pulse rising with anticipation--and a touch
of nerves.

They'd
chosen not to have music, but the guests quieted anyway as Kimmy
stepped out through the door, her body stiff with concentration but
her face lit. She was wearing something lavender and carrying a
bouquet, and her hair was braided back into an elaborate coronet, but
Grissom barely glanced at her. He was too busy looking behind her,
taking in every detail at once.

Sara
fairly glowed when the light hit her. She had chosen white, though
it wasn't a traditional bridal gown; the formal dress set off her
shoulders with a lacy bodice, and her legs with a straight sweep of
skirt. She had a spray of blossoms pinned in her hair and a thread
of gold around her throat, and for a moment it appeared she had a
bouquet as well, until her hand moved and Grissom saw that it was
actually a wrist corsage. Her other hand clutched something white;
probably a handkerchief, he thought absently, raising his eyes to
meet hers.

They
were incandescent with joy. The wide smile he loved spread over her
face, and she followed Kimmy up the aisle, paying no attention to
their friends rising as she passed them. It seemed to take forever
for her to reach him; then Kimmy was turning aside and Sara's hand
was in his reaching one. They turned to face the minister.

The
ceremony was simple and relatively short, and Grissom went through it
in a sort of hyperawareness, storing up each sound and sensation,
deeply aware of the promises he was making and receiving. His voice
shook a little on the vows, every word carrying a joyous, solemn
weight of significance; Sara's hands trembled in his as she spoke
her own in clear tones. The slide of the ring onto her finger was a
strange, awesome relief, the sign and seal of their promises,
and the cool new weight on his own hand was satisfyingly right. In
this, too, they were partners.

Forever.

When
he kissed her, everything seemed possible.

x

It
was a good party, Grissom reflected as he looked around the Sidle
backyard. Not that I'm any expert, but everyone seems to be
having a good time.

People
were talking and laughing and devouring the goodies spread out by the
caterer. A small pile of presents sat on the end of one table,
despite a request for no gifts.

The
ceremony's aftermath was still a bit of a blur, hugs and tears and
congratulations, but things were less intense now as people settled
down to enjoy themselves.

Habit
had him looking around for Rosalie, and he spotted her talking with
Catherine; the two had met before. Then an arm slid through his, and
he couldn't help smiling at his bride.

"How're
you doing?" she asked quietly, eyes crinkling as she smiled back.

"Fine,"
he answered. "I'm just people-watching."

"It
is an interesting mix," Sara agreed. Greg had brought a date, and
stood hand-in-hand with her, chatting with Ed and Gracie; David and
his wife, Sylvie, were talking to Doc and Mrs. Robbins. Betty and
Susan were talking comfortably over their plates of nibbles.
Warrick, for some reason, was apparently teaching Kimmy how to fold a
paper rose.

Joey
passed by with Gen in tow--he had evidently developed an instant
crush on the young CSI. "They didn't get a cake, they got a
croaker-bush," he was explaining. Sara snickered and let Grissom
go to catch up.

"A
croquembouche, Joseph, not a frog plant."

Gen
still looked politely baffled. Sara glanced over her shoulder.
"Should I explain, or should we just demonstrate?"

Grissom
cocked his head. "Let's demonstrate."

"Okay."
Sara waved at her brother, who came ambling over. "Eddie, let's
do the dessert thing now."

He
rolled his eyes. "You have no sense of tradition."

"So?
It's our wedding, we'll do what we like." She nudged him
lightly, and he snorted and headed inside, snagging Nick to help. A
few moments later the two of them returned; Ed was carrying a huge
platter on which rested a conical tower of cream puffs, garnished
with caramelized sugar and fresh flowers.

"See?"
Sara asked, giving Joey a quick hug. "No frogs involved."

"Ooh,"
Gen said, obviously impressed. "How do they stick together?"

"I'm
not sure," Grissom answered. "I was afraid to ask."

As
the guests gathered around the confection, Greg shook his head,
looking disappointed. "I wanted to see you two mush each other
with cake," he complained cheerfully.

Sara
snickered, and feeling mischievous, Grissom glanced over at her.
When their eyes met and she winked, he knew she was thinking the same
thing.

Plucking
the topmost puff from the tower, Grissom popped it neatly into Sara's
smiling mouth. Laughter swept the guests as Greg slapped his
forehead in exaggerated rue; Sara chose another puff and
reciprocated. Only Grissom saw the flush on her cheeks darken when
his tongue deliberately grazed the tip of her finger. Then the
others were crowding around to help themselves.

The
party wound on as the afternoon slowly deepened; as the sun sank, Ed
cleared the sun porch and turned on the stereo so those who wanted
to dance could. David blushingly asked Sara for a dance; Robbins
swayed slowly with his wife, sans crutch; Greg took Kimmy for
a spin; and, Grissom was both surprised and touched to see,
eventually Ed turned the base up to teeth-rattling levels and invited
Rosalie out onto the small floor. Obviously delighted, she acceded,
and they waltzed a song's worth.

"So
where are you going for your honeymoon?" Catherine asked as they
watched Greg and his date jitterbug to something faster.

Grissom
took a sip of champagne, approving his own choice. "We haven't
decided yet; we're going sometime next year, when we both have more
leave time."

Catherine
shot him a slightly disbelieving glance. "Don't tell me the two
of you are just reporting for work tomorrow like nothing happened!"

"Oh.
Okay." Catherine herself had had more than one glass of
champagne, Grissom judged, but Warrick was driving, and the gentle
flush suited her. She shot Grissom a slightly salacious look.
"Where are you staying tonight?"

Only
Catherine had the temerity to ask, but Grissom was years past being
offended. "A beach house. It belongs to a friend of my uncle's.
No, I'm not telling you the address."

Catherine
chuckled. "It ain't me you have to worry about, Gil. I'm not
the prankster at the lab."

Grissom
shrugged. "I made it clear that we're taking Sara's
convertible. I doubt anyone would dare her wrath."

"This
is true." Catherine chose a cream puff from her plate and bit into
it with an expression of bliss. "Wonderful idea," she said after
swallowing. "Where'd you get it?"

"The
confection, or the idea?" Grissom asked, amused.

Catherine
rolled her eyes. "Both."

"The
caterer provided the croquembouche. It's a traditional cake
alternative in some parts of France."

"Only
you would know that." Unexpectedly Catherine rose up on her toes
and kissed his cheek. "I'm happy for you, Gil. You both deserve
this."

Without
hesitation, Catherine handed her plate to Grissom and let Warrick
lead her onto the sun porch. Grissom set the plate aside and looked
around for Sara.

He
found her talking with Nick on the far side of the yard, her dress
standing out in the dusk. Not wanting to interrupt, Grissom slipped
up behind her and put his arms around her waist, and Sara leaned
easily back against him. Nick grinned at them, and after a few
moments left them with a wave.

For
a little while they stood, simply happy, until Grissom whispered in
her ear, the perfume of the blossoms in her hair sweet in his nose.
"Ready to go?"

"Oh
yeah." Sara tilted her head back against his shoulder and kissed
him, a sweet soft touch. "Let's get out of here."

It
wasn't that simple, of course; there were hugs and kisses and
congratulations, and Brass' promise to see Rosalie safe home, and
Rosalie's tearful proud goodbye to them both. And there was much
laughter when everyone spilled out to the front yard, and found that
Sara's convertible had been--not damaged--but covered, bumper to
bumper, in balloons with "Geek" printed on them. Greg and Nick
and Ed looked excessively innocent; Sara tweaked each of their noses
in laughing revenge, and eventually the car was dug out and loaded
with the gifts and suitcases.

Grissom
helped Sara into the passenger seat, and she had the top down before
he even got around the car. They drove off to the sound of cheers
and whistles and applause, and as the sound faded Sara pulled the
pins from her hair and let it whip in the wind, laughing happily.

The
beach house was fairly secluded, owning its own narrow strip of sand;
Grissom had stayed in it before, though not in some years. He fished
out the keys as they climbed the porch steps, and Sara took them from
him and unlocked the door.

As
she pushed it open, Grissom felt a sudden, unexpected flush of
testosterone, mixed with something more intimate. He bent and picked
her up in his arms, disregarding her squeak of surprise. The door
swung shut behind them as her arms went around his neck. "Hey!"

"Indulge
me," he muttered, and carried her through the dim main room and
into the bedroom, which was filled with early moonlight. Her low
chuckle, and the feel of her lips against his jaw, reassured him that
she wasn't upset. Ignoring the strain in his arms, he laid her
gently down on the bed instead of setting her on her feet.

Sensing
his mood, Sara smiled up at him, serene and sweet, and Grissom drank
her in for a long, long moment. Sara, his dream, his love, had
promised him that she would stay with him, in defiance of all that
might try to separate them, and he knew that Sara kept the promises
she made. The last tiny fear at the bottom of his heart had finally
been eased, and he felt as though he were overflowing with an
intense, urgent warmth.

So
he lay down beside her, his wife, his Sara, his, his…his at last.
And loved her.

xxxx

They
spent a quiet few days exploring Mission Viejo and its environs,
mostly just indulging in time to be together--eating in small
restaurants, walking along the water, driving through breathtaking
scenery and arguing happily about the birds they spotted--without
interruptions from work or friends or family. But in the wee hours
of Friday morning, Grissom woke to find Sara sitting up in bed,
frowning thoughtfully.

"What
is it?" he asked, reaching out to touch her.

She
smiled down at him. "Nothing, I'm just restless. I'll sit up
for a while."

His
hand on her arm stopped her. "Tell me." He wasn't alarmed,
but he was concerned.

Sara
shrugged. "I want to get started," she said slowly. "Don't
get me wrong, this is amazing, spending time with you like this...but
I want to go home, and really begin our, uh, married life." She
looked down at him, a little embarrassed. "I know, it's stupid."

"No
it's not." It made perfect sense, in fact. Grissom sat up,
looking around their hotel room. "How quickly can you pack?"

They
drove into the sunrise with the top down, Sara at the wheel and
Grissom alternately watching her and the scenery. The chill air of
the desert dawn whipped color into her face, and when they pulled up
in front of the townhouse he leaned over and kissed her. Her cheeks
were cold, but her lips were warm, warm...

Sara
laughed, and kissed him back, and they went inside to begin.

End.

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